


A Little Less Than Savior

by Into_Evernight



Category: AFI
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Into_Evernight/pseuds/Into_Evernight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curiosity turns to liking turns to mutualism. Nils needs someone there for him while he struggles financially, and Davey is more than willing to provide...with one little catch. [Nilvey]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on AFIslash from 02/11/2012 to 06/04/2012 
> 
> I am aware I need to be working on other stories. I don't care. I wanted this now. I have some of the next chapter written too, which is going to be longer than this.
> 
> Thanks to artemis for helping me with this! It is also based on something that happened in an RP we are doing.
> 
> Disclaimer:These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

He was living with a few friends, he said, the night that Davey met him. He was nothing but pale flesh and bones, his scrawny, lithe form draped against the bar, toothpick legs crossed at the knees. In one hand, he was holding an unlit cigarette, the other hanging limp at the wrist off the bar top. Davey had found it odd he wasn't even smoking the cigarette, and wondered if it was just for show. But then some older man had come up and lit it for him, this disheveled young thing offering a shy smile and bringing it to his lips, turning his clear blue gaze down to his dirty shoes.

His name was Nils, he said, and he was a model. Such a profession simultaneously struck Davey as fitting and peculiar; on one hand, there were some definite attractive features about him, like the way his lips stretched out in a soft smile, the way his complexion was creamy and clear, the way his eyes lowered demurely whenever Davey said something he found amusing or flattering. And he noticed after watching him for a while that he had a strange habit of tucking his hair behind his ear whenever he was uncomfortable. There was just something about him that didn't seem to be everything he wanted to portray himself as. Because, beneath that young man who chased down his dreams and took shots of hard liquor paid for by older men, was a small, scared boy, new to the world and almost even helpless, like a fawn taking its first shaky steps on uneven ground.

That was the night he gave this strange, alluring young man his number, partially out of intrigue and partially out of some sort of pity. It wasn't often he gave personal information out, but the way their eyes locked, the warm stirring he felt in his chest and lower half, told him there was something there, something worth pursing. As he'd said his goodbyes and walked out, he'd promised himself he wouldn't be like one of those other men. He wouldn't need to trip all over himself to bring Nils back; Nils would come to him.

–

They hung out several times, but it wasn't until the third time that Nils found the courage to tell him he liked his music and had for quite some time. His words were innocent enough, glazed with that token shyness Davey had come to know him to have, but there was also some darker, deeper desire blooming within him, inky and bleeding to come out. Maybe Nils didn't notice it but Davey did; he'd been with enough young men to know what it was. It was idolatry, plain and clear. A heathen desire, one that was sacrilegious but charming. And the look in his eyes was gleaming enough to tell him what he truly meant. It wasn't just the music.

He watched as Nils leaned his head back against the brick wall outside of the restaurant they'd just eaten at, cigarette in hand just like the day he'd met him. And it was almost like being transfixed, watching as he lifted the carcinogen stick to his lips and breathed in destruction, exhaling delicate white-gray plumes of pollution. On a whim, he told him with an even stare that he shouldn't smoke so much, that he would destroy his pretty-boy looks. It was spoken with an air of teasing, of flirtation, but beneath the surface lay a genuine sort of concern.

In response, Nils flicked a suddenly dark, sullen gaze in his direction, as though Davey had tread upon some horribly sore topic. He took another drag of his cigarette, this one longer than before, then let it fall to the cement and ground it out with the toe of an environmentally conscious shoe. "I know," was all he said, his eyes looking like a raging sea, if it were more like a sulky child, that was. And then he drew his gaze up to the sky, squinting in the sunshine and leaning his head back against the wall again. Davey found himself preoccupied by the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed; he had the sudden urge to press his lips to it, the sudden need to touch Nils in some way.

He didn't hold back. Nils was here now, and he wouldn't be if he didn't have some sort of interest in him. Models and rock stars went hand in hand, regardless of the gender—at least, for him. And he'd come to find that same awkward boyishness and awkward physical proportions suddenly endearing; he believed Nils would be quite flexible—a trait he liked to have in his pets. Coming closer, he tested a touch, sliding his arm around his stomach and letting his hand come to rest at Nils' side, right above his hip. For a moment, he flinched, eyes widening and lips parting a little, this too-young look registering on his face. But then he started to relax, smiled even. And Davey knew everything was all right, that Nils was wrapped around his finger like a pretty little red ribbon.

He decided to keep him for a while.


	2. Chapter 1: Initiate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: I realize it's still a bit short, but next chapter shall be longer because that's when things start to get kind of good. ;)
> 
> Disclaimer:These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

"Can I please stay with you for a few days?" It was broken, like a windshield upon impact, all the tiny cracks and hairlines spreading outward from a radiant central point. It pulsed through Davey's skull through the receiver of the phone, this nasal almost whine, the voice of someone suppressing emotion and trying not to cry. The voice of someone very afraid.

He wandered over to the wall where his calendar hung, flipping the page up to check the next few days. His schedule was fairly packed, and he wasn't sure he'd even be here the whole time. But he'd known Nils for almost four months now, and he felt like he could trust him to stay at his house without him around, if he so needed. "Yeah, of course. You're welcome to come whenever you want to." He paused, reaching for a pen to scratch this information on his calendar, the motion seeming strangely business-like; it felt askew. "When do you think you'll get here?"

A tense pause; Davey could hear nothing but white noise and the little pops of interference, the fresh sound like a record playing. Then, a mumble. "I don't know. Maybe this is a stupid idea."

Davey's brow furrowed and he dropped the calendar, the pages fluttering together. He planted a hand on his hip, staring at the wall. "What do you mean you don't know? If you have a shoot up here, they should've sent you a schedule. Are people really that unreliable and unprofessional these days—?"

"I don't have any money."

The words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, it felt heavy and weighted, settling in the bottom of his stomach with unpleasant certainty. "You don't have any money..." Davey repeated the words, turning them over and over on his tongue. Again, he frowned.

"Yeah." Nils coughed, this wet sound like he was getting sick—or maybe the soot had permanently settled in his lungs, a black death of sorts. "I don't have anywhere to go. My friends kicked me out. I'm fucked."

At this, Davey drifted over to the kitchen table, sinking into one of the chairs and breathing out this elongated, pained sigh. Resting his forehead in his hand, he stared down at the grain of the wood, digesting the information. After a long moment, he made up his mind. "I'll book you a flight as soon as possible and call you back with the information. If you have nowhere to go now, you can print off your boarding pass at the airport. When you land, give me a call."

There was a stunned silence that lasted too long, to the point Davey wondered if he'd hung up the phone. But then he was stammering, the words falling stuttered from his lips. "You'd do that for me? But...that's a lot of fucking money." A loss of words.

"Don't worry about it. Pack your things. I will call you back shortly."

Davey hung up before he could protest. And then he went into the other room, to his laptop, to book his flight. It was at that moment that everything made sense. How Nils accepted favors from men he didn't care for, whether it was a drink or a cigarette or a gift. Davey never saw him wear his gifts; he must've been selling them for money. Money he didn't have, money he needed to live. A cold sense washed over him at the thought of this vibrant, young creature, this beautiful man he'd come to initiate into his flock and set at his left hand, this boy he'd kept close and tucked under his wing and mentored. The whole time he'd known him, he'd been struggling, this flailing, barely alive thing. He lived from day to day, taking what he could get and giving what people would take for compensation. He'd bounced from friend to friend until he'd had none left. And he'd never said a word of complaint before desperation had set in.

Davey wouldn't let it happen again.

–

It was an unusually chilly spring day the next morning when Nils arrived. It was early and the dew still clung to the grass, a thick fog having rolled in overnight and obscured the dips in the road. Being Sunday, the roads were fairly clear at this time; he had no trouble getting to the airport. When he saw him standing outside and waiting to be picked up, one suitcase clutched tightly in both hands and looking like the weight was pulling him and his too-thin arms down, Davey felt his heart flutter as though struggling to keep afloat before it fell. He pulled his SUV up to the curb, pressing the button to unlock the doors and then to roll down the tinted windows.

"Hey," he called, waving to him.

"Hi." A tentative smile played on Nils' lips and he wandered over to the car, still clutching that suitcase as though it were a lifeline. He opened the door and tried to put it in the floorboard, but Davey gestured towards the back seat instead. As soon as it'd been stowed in the back seat, Nils climbed in and shut the door, pulling his seat belt on and shifting to get comfortable. That was when he spoke again. "Thank you so much. I was so fucked."

"It's no problem," Davey insisted, putting the heat on though it wasn't necessary for him; however, he'd noticed the goosebumps prickling Nils' skin.

Nils brushed some hair out of his face, and Davey saw out of the corner of his eye how he kept his gaze down. "It really means a lot," he mumbled. "Things have really been tough. I can't make ends meet. And my family doesn't want shit to do with me so it's not like they'll help me out." Here, he barked a laugh. "They don't like my religious views but they're trash anyway." It ended with a snort. Final. Dismissive. And yet there was an underlying pang to it, the pang of rejection. Davey didn't know much about his family situation, just that they didn't have anything to do with each other. He presumed they didn't like the path Nils had chosen, to be a _deadbeat_ and a model and a vagabond instead of finding stable work or finishing school.

"It's a shame when you can't rely on those who should be the closest," Davey finally said, stealing a glance at Nils. He was looking down again, his hair falling in his face. Davey couldn't resist reaching out and brushing it away, his fingertips trailing over his cheek and stopping at his jaw. The touch made his stomach drop, made something almost sinister stir in his abdomen. "But I promise it'll be all right. When family fails, you have to surround yourself with good friends. Which you still have, right?"

"Hardly." Nils looked away, that sulking expression pushing out his lower lip ever so slightly; Davey found it endearing but didn't say so. Because the next moment, his words were sinking in and he was giving him a curious gaze. Nils continued on his own. "It's the end of the road for me. I can't give them anything. Who am I kidding? They don't have money either. I don't blame them for kicking me out."

It began to dawn on Davey just _how serious_ Nils' situation was. He had nowhere to go. He had no one and nothing, save for the clothes on his back and what lay in the back seat. He was _homeless_ for fuck's sake, and Davey was his last resort. Sympathy and longing overwhelmed him, and he reached over the middle console to touch him. His fingers brushed against his thigh, not his hand. Although it had been accidental, he felt no need for an apology, and Nils didn't so much as move. It was like he was too absorbed in his own mind and his own worries to even so much as feel it, despite the weight and the warmth. Or perhaps he was used to it now, Davey thought with a slight frown.

It was none of his business. He didn't ask, and Nils didn't offer the information. Neither did he complain as Davey gave his thigh a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb along the inside seam of his tight jeans. And when Davey spoke again, to offer him refuge and a warm bed to sleep in, it was said in low tones, soothing like silk. "Don't worry. You can stay with me as long as you need. I'll take care of you."

Something weary like a smile flickered on Nils' lips, uncertain. There was a rush of air leaving his lungs, a painful sound that seemed like his chest was caving in. "Thanks." Nils reached out and slid his hand over Davey's, finally looking up at him, eyes shining with not so much innocence. There was a flicker akin to relief in his eyes, but something else beneath that, something darker and drooping. Davey didn't know what it was at the time; he figured it was just the beginnings of disenchantment over life itself, that feeling one got when reality finally revealed itself for what it really was, all the sparkle and allure having lost itself to daydreams and fantasy. He determined to bring the spark back to Nils' eyes.

For now, he just smiled in silence and pulled away from the curb, to take Nils to get something to eat and then to go home.


	3. Chapter 2: Acknowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: Updating it tonight before I go to bed because I have a date tomorrow. And I will be too nerve-wracked to update in the morning. Anyway, I wrote this mostly at 3 AM. Lucidly dreaming. I hope it makes sense though it did when I re-read it. I am really enjoying writing this and playing with my style.
> 
> Disclaimer:These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

The third week ushered in change.

Davey had made himself scarce the first two weeks Nils had come to live with him, not because he wanted to but because he had too much going on. AFI was set to release Decemberunderground soon, and he had too many things to take care of. Re-recording pieces of vocals. Polishing up their work and making last minute tweaks to the lyrics. Lunching with the boys and various record execs and magazine publishers to talk about promotion. They still had a solid two months before they were set to release, but those last two months were going to fill his days to the brim, leaving little time for anything else. It was a routine he was accustomed to, all part of the cycle. But this time, it felt _bigger_ , some hint of greatness overshadowing anything they'd ever done before. When he and Jade sat in the studio late at night, going over the mixes and combing through every little part until it was neatened to near perfection, he just felt a swelling of pride filling his whole chest, billowing like colorful sheets in the wind.

It was after a string of such sessions that he came home to rest up and rejuvenate, having expended all his energy on sleepless nights and too much intimate discussion with his band mates, leaving no room for anything else except overbearing exhaustion. And now he was finally at his house again, to a place that felt simultaneously like home and not like home, some gaping, foreign hole for him to lose himself in. The moment he stepped inside, he flicked on the light but it didn't feel right, so he turned it off again, making his way through the darkness and feeling like an intruder.

For at least a week, he had cut himself off from the world and refused to let anyone talk to him; he'd needed privacy, not interruption. He'd all but forgotten about Nils while he was away, having left him enough money for food and gas in case he needed it. But now that he was back and wandering through the living room, he wondered how the boy was doing, wondered if he'd had any luck since they'd last spoken.

As he ascended the stairs, he became aware of a soft, golden glow bathing the hallway floor above him, the silhouette of a half-cracked door stretching out like some monolithic ghost. He stopped at the landing, listening for any sound at all, but all he could make out was the faint tapping of someone typing. Carefully, stealthily, he made his way across the carpeted floor without a sound and then pressed a hand to the cool, painted wood of the door. He pushed it open just enough to look in, to see Nils leaning against propped up pillows on the bed, Davey's laptop perched on his crossed knees. There was an intent look creasing his pretty, smooth brow, his stringy black hair hanging in his eyes. It wasn't until Davey actually stepped in the room that he looked up from whatever he was doing, his entire body lurching as he jumped.

"Oh, it's just you," he said, hand coming to rest at his chest, over his heart. "Fuck, you could've said something instead of scaring me to death." He breathed out in a rush, frowning.

A lazy smirk spread across Davey's lips and he came closer, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. He could tell Nils was trying his best to look back at the computer screen, to do whatever it was he was doing. "Why should I say anything? It's my house. Or are you doing something naughty?" His words came out heavy with sensuality, purred and rounded at the edges.

Nils flicked an uncertain gaze up to him, but his cheeks were burning. "Um, no." He tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. _Strike one,_ Davey thought. "I was just...trying to email some contacts. I'm looking for some jobs. Modeling stuff." As though that clarification had been necessary, Davey noted. He watched his Adam's apple bob hard. _Strike two._

"Is that so?" Davey stretched out beside Nils, his head coming to rest about where his stomach began. He craned to try to see the screen, but Nils recoiled. _Strike three._ "What were you really doing?" He put a hand on Nils to steady him and keep him from pulling the computer back.

There was an almost helpless look on his face, this embarrassed shame sparkling in his eyes. With Davey's body now curled up and pressed close to his own, his cheek resting against his side and his eyes on the screen, there was no way he could hide it now. Regretfully, he relinquished the fight and let the laptop rest on his abdomen, where both of them could see what he'd been doing.

An incredulous eyebrow lifted, and Davey brought coffee-colored eyes up to Nils'. "Really? That's what you were looking at?" He chuckled a little, taking the computer from him and setting it down, the tab with his latest interview still pulled up. "If you really wanted to know what was going on, you could've just asked me." He settled back down against the pillows, next to Nils. He smiled at him, amused. His hand found Nils' arm and ran over the soft skin, up and down.

Nils swallowed hard. "I know, but I didn't want to..." He trailed off, looking away and shrugging, trying to dismiss it.

"Didn't want to what?" Davey pressed, resting his cheek against Nils' shoulder. Now his curiosity had been piqued. He reached for Nils' hand, clasping it in both of his and lingering in the heat trapped between his palms. Having Nils this close, inundated by the clean scent of clothes detergent, of soap and shampoo, made him a little dizzy. He found himself focusing in on the pale length of Nils' neck, the junction between his jaw and his throat.

It took a moment before Nils responded. "I don't know. You didn't want to be bothered." He shrugged again.

That was the moment when something clicked in Davey's mind, and a knowing smile spread across his face, his eyes lighting up. " _Oh_ ," he said, scooting up a little more so his face was more level with Nils'. "Do you just like looking at my pretty face?"

An almost shy smile flashed across Nils' face, and then he was finally looking at Davey. He just kind of laughed, this soft sound in the back of his throat that made Davey's stomach knot up. "Yeah, sure."

That was enough of an answer for him. He propped himself up a little more, then kissed him on the cheek—something they'd gotten into the habit of doing over the last few months. "You know I don't mind," he murmured against his skin, his lips brushing against the roughness of left-over stubble, stubble that couldn't be seen but could be felt. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he did as he'd imagined himself doing earlier and kissed down to that gorgeous junction, lips grazing lightly on down to his neck and making Nils shiver.

"It's actually flattering to know you were thinking of me so much," Davey continued, shifting closer and pressing Nils back into the pillows. He heard a soft exhale escape Nils, felt the shudder that wracked his body. A knee brushed against his stomach, and that was when he realized Nils had unconsciously spread his legs. A light sigh fell from his lips, and he nuzzled his nose into Nils' hair. "Don't worry about those 'jobs' tonight. We'll go over it tomorrow." He kissed him again, this time along the shell of his ear. This was where he breathed out the next words, knowing all too well what Nils' reaction would probably be. "I'm going to go to bed. But if you still want some company, I won't object."

Leaving him with that, he pulled back, his freshly cut one-wing of hair falling into his eye. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips as he got up, leaving Nils lying back on the bed with his lips parted and breaths shallow, his eyes half-lidded. Davey knew he'd follow him. And as he walked out into the hall, he heard the click of a light being turned out, followed by the sound of the door creaking and feather-like footsteps coming his way. That was the moment he knew Nils would do whatever he wanted him to do.

When they passed the threshold to Davey's bedroom, the door was shut and the lights were turned out. Clothing was discarded and shed to the floor, the sound of fabric hitting the carpet muffled and soft. Davey stripped down to the skin, free and exposed. He caught a glint in Nils' eye, a shy smile that soon yielded to a wry, crooked smirk. His boy chose only to strip to his brightly colored briefs, but he might as well have not been wearing them at all. Davey allowed himself a good look over before he sat on the edge of the bed, peeling back the covers and slipping under them. With a beckon of his finger, Nils was at his side, joining him with such a casual demeanor he couldn't help but wonder. His wondering turned to static jumbled thoughts as he felt Nils' skin brush his own, as he felt lips brush his cheek and practiced, knowing eyes meeting his through the thick blanket of dark.

Rolling over, he enfolded Nils in his arms, pulled him against his chest. Nils melted against him but it was a tired gesture, and it didn't escape Davey's attention how he tucked his head under his chin. _Owning._ And now a flutter of something like pride rose in his chest, his heart burning with a flame no amount of reasoning could put out.

There was a shift like the world had tilted on its side, but shame and conscience dissipated and Davey embraced it.

–

It was the next morning over breakfast Davey chose to surprise Nils. They had a feast fit for a king that morning, with freshly cut fruit arranged into a fruit salad, generous helpings of vegan Belgian waffles, sausage and egg substitute, and a plate stacked high with toast set in the middle of the table. When Nils had come in, he'd looked like he didn't know what to think of it; he stopped rubbing an eye to blink, to gaze upon it with wide eyes. And then as he looked up at Davey for an explanation, he offered none; he offered nothing except a sweeping gesture for him to sit and a too-kind smile.

"I bet you're famished," Davey told him as he took his seat. In response, he just shrugged, so Davey continued. "Don't think I didn't notice all my cash was still on the dresser. You hardly ate while I was gone." A pause. Nils glanced around uneasily, and Davey frowned, leaning forward. "Are you starving yourself on purpose? Maybe you think it's none of my business, but it's very disconcerting." It was all said very matter-of-factly, his tone calm and even as he drizzled some syrup over his own stack of waffles.

At this, he finally received a reaction. Something stunned and offended darkened Nils' face, but at least it forced him to speak. "Starving myself? What the hell? I'm not a fuckin' anorexic."

"Then why was all my money there? It doesn't look like you spent any of it or touched anything in the fridge." Davey kept his eyes locked on Nils, watching how he squirmed in his seat. He took a bite of his waffles. Nils kept his hands in his lap.

A loud sigh penetrated the tension. Nils tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before letting his hand fall again. "I'm just staying here until I can get on my feet..."

Where his words failed to answer his question, his actions gave him away. He bit his lower lip, eyes darting to the side. In shame. Davey remained unaffected, save for the slightest stirring of pity in his gut. Reaching out, he touched Nils' hand and then took it in his own. He lifted it to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently and keeping his eyes on Nils', boring holes straight through them to his soul. "My dear, I told you not to worry. I'm going to take care of you. So when I give you money and tell you what it's for, I want you to spend it. What's left over...it's yours to keep."

"Nothing in life is free," was all Nils said, his voice cracking.

Davey's eyes softened. "I want you to trust me. It's sad you don't. And don't tell me I'm wrong to assume it because I can see it in your eyes." He felt a pang in his chest, and he squeezed Nils' hand tighter, his own plate now forgotten. When he spoke again, his voice was but a whisper. "Why can't you trust me?"

There was a long moment of hesitation. Nils looked both ways—but not at Davey. He neither pulled his hand away nor returned the pressure. It was limp. Defeated. "I...don't know."

"Will you trust me? Please? I'm trying to help you. I wouldn't hurt you." It meant so much to him it hurt. And it always had. Pained, he kissed Nils' hand again, his lips lingering on the skin.

Finally, Nils nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's not like I don't ever trust you. It's just...awkward as hell. I can't pay you back..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing and his eyes looking almost misty.

Afraid he'd break and cry, Davey got up from his chair and went to slide onto the seat next to Nils, wrapping him in his arms and holding him tightly. He crushed him against his chest, burying his nose in Nils' hair. For a moment, Nils stiffened. But then he started to relax, as though a great weight had been lifted from him. "Don't worry for a second about paying me back. You don't owe me." Despite his words, there was some unspoken tension between them, some unspoken treaty. Davey swallowed the lead feeling back. "Stop worrying right now. Don't think about it; just eat."

Nils watched him with almost broken eyes as he got up and slipped into his own seat, reaching for his mug of tea. After a moment's deliberation, he finally reached for his fork and took a tentative bite of a strawberry. Davey's eyes were focused on the way his lips wrapped around the fruit the whole time, his own lips ghosting over the rim of his mug. Nils lifted his eyes and their gazes met. Understanding. And then they resumed breakfast in silence, each to his own thoughts.


	4. Chapter 3: Exacerbate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: This is by far my favorite chapter - and not just because of the ending of it. ;) Special thanks to fadedblack for beta-ing!
> 
> Disclaimer:These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

They had gone out the next day, the afternoon. The warmth of sunshine had whispered to them to sleep in, cradling them with tender fingers and golden dreams dancing on sunbeams in the vintage light of Davey's bedroom. Nils had slept in his bed again at his beckoning. He hadn't wanted to be alone, he said, and Nils had agreed he didn't want to be alone in that big, dark house either. They'd stayed up half the night trading kisses and talking about anything they could think of. Davey had wanted to see if Nils would crack and tell him what was going on with his friends, with his family. Morbid curiosity spurred him on, some sick sort of fascination people get when they want to know a juicy secret or some scrap of gossip. He'd tread around the subject as lightly as possible, twirling whorls of black hair around a finger and speaking to him in trickery, in cryptic poetry and half-bidden needy lies that weren't lies in his self-delusioned mind.

It had been one in the afternoon when they'd woken, Davey first. Nils had been curled up in a fetal position against his side, face pressed uncomfortably in his armpit. Shortly after awakening he had showered but Nils had declined when prodded, with a protest and a pillow to the face. Davey had found it endearing.

Food was forgone for the call of nicotine. Nils didn't want breakfast. He wanted a cigarette. It had been yesterday morning, a full twenty-four hours, since he'd last had one, he'd complained. The complaints nearly fell on deaf ears—deaf by selection, that was—until he'd developed the shakes. That kicked Davey off his throne of straight-edge righteousness and into the car, rushing Nils to the closest drug store for a pack of Camel.

He preferred to smoke clove cigarettes, he bitched as they passed through the automatic doors. Clove was better for his pseudo-gothic image, Davey supposed, somewhat amused and somewhat sobered. He watched, disgruntled, as Nils picked out a pack from behind the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and his body wrapped in a gray hoodie that was far too baggy for him. It swallowed him whole, made him look more skeleton-like than he'd thought was possible. That was when Davey realized it was one of his.

Nils shucked out the cash; he was short a dollar. Davey heard him curse under his breath, and he sighed heavily. Disgusted with himself, he stepped over and pulled a dollar out of his wallet, dropping it carelessly on top of the pile of bills and loose change. Sunken in eyes met his in surprise, but this time Davey wouldn't look at him. He stepped back.

After collecting his purchase and his receipt, they stepped outside into the sunny, breezy day. Immediately, Nils tore the packaging open with shaking hands, then pulled a cigarette out. Davey watched him fumble with his lighter until it produced a flame, then as his eyes fell shut and he sucked in a sharp breath, one that made his shoulders shudder with expanding lungs. It reminded him too much of a person addicted to some harder drug and it turned his stomach. Quickly, he diverted his attention to watch the traffic.

"Thanks," Nils spoke up after a minute. Out of the corner of his eye, Davey saw him grinning awkwardly, almost sheepish. "I know you don't like it, but thanks."

Davey chose to say nothing; he just turned to look at him with a tired smile of his own, eyes regarding him with kind affection but also something like guilt. He found himself reflecting on that afternoon months ago when they'd started hanging out. The destruction then. The destruction now, yet now he was a catalyst.

After two minutes, Nils breathed the last drag and ground it out with his toe. Then he stowed his precious packet away in Davey's hoodie, reaching to take his hand and lead him back to the car. Before they got in, he leaned forward to steal a kiss, forgetting. And Davey breathed the destruction too.

–

It was three days after Nils had first slept beside him that they had sex. It started innocuously enough, with them just lying next to each other in Davey's bed at his insistence, Nils with his head resting on Davey's chest and Davey running his fingers through Nils' unwashed hair. It was late and the lights were out, pelts of rain hitting windowpanes in pitter-patters, the sound soft and soothing. In the darkness, there was a shift, like shadows easing out from the walls, and Davey bent down to graze his lips against the crown of Nils' head.

A kiss—it always started with just a kiss. The slightest pause stretched between the moment Davey kissed the top of his head and the moment their lips made contact. It was a tentative brush and the sensation made a cold wave rush through Davey's body, prickles of goosebumps rising on his skin. For a moment, Nils just brushed his lips over Davey's in some strange side-to-side motion, each movement slow and deliberate. He'd turned around and was half lying on top of Davey, the boy no longer a boy but a seductive incubus stretching out over him and tempting him with beautiful lips and bright eyes that looked darker than their usual blue.

Nights upon nights had passed upon which Davey had dreamed of this moment. Of the moment he finally felt hot skin beneath wandering fingertips and the wetness of unbridled kisses planted on every inch of exposed flesh. He'd dreamed of how Nils' bare skin would feel against his hands, how his hardness would feel weighing against his palm. And these things were flying through his mind now as he slid his hands up the front of Nils' shirt. Nils didn't so much as flinch at the touch, something both surprising and not surprising to Davey. A smirk scrawled across his face and he tilted his chin up, his dark eyes dancing in the dim light and trying to meet Nils' gaze.

He kept his eyes down.

He kept his eyes down, but he didn't stop, didn't ask Davey to stop. Instead, he pressed on, arching his back and drawing his body out like a lazy cat. But he didn't look up. Not when Davey helped him pull his shirt over his head. Not when he leaned down and pressed feather-light kisses across Davey's already naked collarbone. Each kiss felt like fire licking Davey's skin, and he pushed all doubts out of his mind the second he felt Nils' knee accidentally brush against his growing erection.

Arching up off the bed, he let out a little panted groan, his hands sliding down Nils' sides to grip his hipbones. He mused to himself about how Nils' other lovers must've been. Had they been older, even older than him? Had Nils gotten down on his knees and worshiped their bodies? Had he bowed on hands and knees for them? Surely he had not lowered himself to that level. But surely he would now.

The next thing he knew, their mouths had found each other again and they were kissing heatedly, frantically. Nils started it this time; it was tentative and uncertain, but gradually gained strength and speed. Hands stroked bare skin and mouths suckled together in hungry unison. Fingers tangled and pulled in hair, breathy half-whimpers filling the air. And soon Davey was burning as though completely aflame, his shoulders and head lifted off the mattress as they kissed and kissed and kissed. He tilted his head, teeth scraping against the corner of Nils' mouth and erection aching so painfully he couldn't help but reach down and attend to it. His eyes were closed, mind focused on the sensation, so he was surprised when he felt a second hand join his, cradling and fondling his cock, cold fingers running over the underside and the ridge. He felt his cock twitch and he jolted up to meld his body with Nils'.

The position was arranged quickly and wordlessly. Davey took hold of Nils' shoulders and pushed him away, and he understood. He fell to his elbows and knees, his head hanging and his hair in his face. The Hot Topic cheap pentagram he wore swung away from his body at the motion, swaying back and forth before him like a pendulum. Hurriedly, Davey pulled open the top drawer to his nightstand, fumbling through the mess for his lube and condoms. He found them quickly, knowing too well where they were tucked away, then crawled up behind Nils. His cock was painfully hard and pressed against his heaving belly, and he felt as though he was even harder at the sight of the thin fabric pulled across Nils' ass and adhered to his form. He noted how he was shaking, the quivers running through the muscles in his back and his thighs.

Hooking his fingers in the waistband of Nils' underwear, Davey tested the elastic. He pulled back and let it snap against the skin with a cringe-inducing sound, satisfied at the way Nils' body finally flinched. Slowly, he pulled Nils' underwear down until it was bunched at his thighs. He didn't bother to bring it down any more, too impatient.

Now he had to deal with the preparation. It was done hurriedly, shaking, lube-coated fingers sliding up and down the cleft and then pushing past resistance to be met with blinding heat. It happened in a multi-colored blur of too many thoughts slurring together like an alcohol induced fantasy, his mind bent by that heat and that tightness and the whimpering sound that caught in Nils' throat when he stretched him too soon. The boy held his own, elbows and knees spread and body braced against the pain. Davey could see his stomach moving with his breaths, could see how it tensed and trembled whenever he did something that tore and hurt. But he also saw how much more aroused Nils got by the pain. He would ask him about it later.

A mild amount of time was spent working his fingers in and out, his nails scraping against that spot he'd mapped out and memorized in other men long ago. Memories danced before his eyes in the form of déjà vu; he pulled his fingers from Nils' body with a satisfying pop just as his moans started to rumble deep in his chest, signifying pleasure beyond comprehension.

_Ripping._ It tore through his skull, a sound so loud and so insistent with anticipation he could barely control himself anymore. The wrapper was discarded; the condom was rolled on. Just feeling his own hands against his erection had his eyes rolling back and his lids fluttering shut. He lubed up. And then he grabbed Nils' hips and pressed against his ass, just teasing him by sliding his cock over him until he whined and begged with a humility Davey had yet to hear from him.

Just the sound of his name gasped out was all he needed. He snapped his hips forward; he knew now Nils was anything but innocent. The motion elicited a sharp gasp that split through the silence, and through the stars Davey saw Nils scrambling and clawing at the pillowcases, the bones in his shoulders protruding sickly. He trembled, his head hung and heavy breaths gulping for air. And Davey just snapped his hips forward again.

"P-please..." Nils choked out, his teeth digging into his lower lip. "Hurt me."

The request didn't so much as strike Davey as odd in its nature as it did in timing. However, he was never one to argue; instead, he complied. He grabbed Nils by the hair and pressed on his lower back, slamming into him again. And again. He bit down on his shoulder as he started a steady rhythm of hard, precise thrusts, long nails raking red marks over heaving ribs. Something in the back of his mind warned it might be a test, a test of trust. He'd learned long ago how to retain control over sexual situations, and now was no exception.

He fucked him. He bit him and scratched him and pulled his hair. Occasionally, he grabbed him by the throat and choked him, shaking him hard and shoving him to the mattress, trapping his head between the headboard and the pillows in a painful contortion and smothering him until he begged him to stop. The first time resulted in writhing and struggling. The second time, Nils came all over the fabric of his underwear as Davey palmed him madly.

The wetness drove Davey to the edge as well. He managed a few more erratic thrusts, Nils' body rocking with each movement, before the feeling prickled every nerve and illuminated his entire being, his vision fading out to nothingness. Nirvana was nothingness, he concluded. He rose, he plateaued, he fell.

They fell to the mattress with a shared sigh of relief, and Davey scattered kisses over both of Nils' sweaty shoulders, adoring just as he had been adored. Craning his neck, Nils offered a tired smile and a faint kiss, and then they re-positioned themselves, their bodies folded and draped together like two halves.

After that, there were no words. There was nothing, nothing save for bated breaths and something heavy hanging over them. Not the heavy of sweat or humidity or sex—the kind of heavy that one felt in the very pit of his stomach when something lunged out of control.


	5. Chapter 4: Progress/Decline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: Sorry it took me a while to update. I've been ridiculously busy. I'm afraid I'm not in love with this chapter's tone as much, but it is an important chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer:These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

Davey had been out all day. He'd picked up a surprise for his OC crew, something he'd been hinting at for weeks and hiding with secret smiles and quirked eyebrows, his playful eyes telling them they'd have to wait. Nils had begged him to tell him what it was; he'd all but driven the boy crazy. Each time he presented Nils with a gift, he'd frown a bit as though in thought, as though trying to figure out if this was what Davey meant by his cryptic, painted words, by his mystery disguised flirtations. It was distracting enough to keep him busy, to keep him from asking any other questions.

Today he'd finalized his surprise, spending time chatting with friends and applying different colored bows to the boxes – categorizing. He'd made phone calls, inviting them all out on a trip to Vegas – all on him. It was during these conversations that he'd confessed to having something for them, tilting his head and smirking at his reflection in the car windshield, his eyes shielded by dark, rounded sunglasses. They'd played the game with him just like Nils had, begging – a hint, any hint. He'd refused to say. Not even to the pretty young things, not even to Ryan or Brittany. They would have to wait like everyone else.

The only one that wouldn't have to wait was the one who would find out anyway. Nils had been poking through his rooms. The boy didn't think he knew. However, every piece of clothing, every piece of jewelry, was meticulously placed. Every year, he went through an annual purging, memorizing and mapping out his closet for the next year. His items had expiration dates that must be adhered to, so when the disorder appeared in his closets, he knew someone had been moving things around. Searching. And it was easier to cater to his curiosity to make him stop than it was to let it eat away at him. It was best to humor him.

After he'd pulled up in his driveway, he saw one of the sheer, cream-colored curtains in his front window sway suddenly, as though someone had been spying. Another smirk spread across his face at the realization. He'd played it up well; it would be taken as an honor. Closing the car door, he went up the walk, double-bagged purchase tightly clutched in his hand. As he came into the foyer, he noticed Nils draped across his couch in what he probably assumed was a casual position – but Davey could see his chest slightly heaving, eyes large and youthful and sparking with unspoken pleas.

“Hi,” he rasped out, tone peppered with quivers; he could hardly contain himself.

“I see you've been waiting for me, darling,” Davey all but coo-ed, this sugary sweet tone like syrup drizzling the air. He stepped softly over to Nils, whose lips were lightly tugged up at the corners, then leaned over and captured his mouth in a warm, wet kiss. “Mmm,” he hummed against his mouth, tilting his head to the side and locking his jaw, eyes fluttering shut. He held it for a moment longer than Nils would've liked, judging by the way he lukewarmly returned it and squirmed. “I have something for you, my dear. Something you've been anticipating.” He breathed the words in Nils' ear, eyes drawn to the goosebumps that broke across his skin.

At this, Nils sat up straight, crossing his legs Indian style and looking at him expectantly. His brow furrowed with something like frustration. “Are you finally going to stop teasing me? It's getting old.”

“I know it is,” Davey replied, tone even. Slowly, he sank down into the cushions beside Nils, laughing quietly as he leaned against his shoulder like an over-eager dog. Affectionately, he raked a hand through Nils' hair. “Patience is virtue, pet.”

He could practically see the whined words on Nils' lips before he heard it, the sullen _'come on; that's bullshit.'_ Instead of chiding him, he just laughed again, leaning down to steal another unwanted kiss. Perhaps he'd played it up a little too much.

“Fine,” he said, pulling back and looking at him through half-narrowed eyes, lips pursed and suppressing the amused smile. An amusement Nils looked on with hesitant, wary glances. Frozen. Rigid.

Words were forgone in favor of action. Davey dug through the bag, paper rustling. He kept his shoulder angled, blocking Nils from leaning any closer, blocking him from seeing the stacked white boxes in the bag identical to his box, save for the color of the bow. Nils' ribbon was bright, blood red, the color of his scent, his aura. Gently, Davey laid the offering – the prize – on Nils' lap, rolling the top of the bag up and pushing it aside to be forgotten. Again, Nils stole a hesitant, uncertain glance. Davey nodded, whispering for him to _open it_.

Shaking fingers unknotted the ribbon with utmost care. It was placed aside before Nils opened the lid. The sunshine which crept in through the windows caught the sparkle at just the right moment – enticing allure. Davey's eyes flicked from the way Nils licked his lips to the way he pulled the card from the box, fingers clumsily pulling the tape from the back and undoing the clasp of the metal beaded chain. At the last moment, Davey reached out to steady his hands, to help him undo the clasp and wind the chain around his neck – adorning him with a necklace almost identical to his own onyx encrusted one.

Nils looked at him with that same furrowed brow – this time confused. “The next album,” Davey explained, running two fingers over the smooth, silver hare hanging from Nils' neck, tracing the cool metal and then the soft warmth of his T-shirt. A living pulse pumped hard beneath his fingertips. “The cycle. A symbol of death. Absence of rebirth.”

A raised eyebrow. A pause, and then resilience.“And fertility?” Nils asked with a cheeky smirk.

Davey opened his mouth, then shut it, unable to find words for a moment. But then Nils was laughing breathlessly so he had to echo it. “I suppose,” was all he said, and this time it was Nils who kissed him. Davey felt his teeth against his lips from his smile, and he reached up to rest his hands on Nils' elbows, to brace him for the soul-searing kiss that followed. Acceptance. And Nils was marked.

–

It was two nights before Davey had to fly out to L.A. that he found Nils on the bathroom floor. The evening had been spent sans Nils with Adam and one of his girlfriends. Years ago, Davey had chided him for such behavior. Now he'd barely batted an eyelash at it, instead enjoying dinner with them and talking too much about the new record. Plans had been made to finish polishing it up, and goodbyes had been spoken. It was only as Davey was leaving with a Styrofoam box of take-out for Nils that he wished he'd brought him.

That feeling subsided by the time he came home. The house was shrouded in curtains of thick darkness; he wondered if Nils had gone out. Paying it no mind, he put the food in the refrigerator, the light slicing like a lonely wedge through the hollow of black. Nils could heat it up later if he was hungry. Since he'd come to live with him, he'd learned he didn't eat much, instead choosing to thrive on cigarettes and alcohol.

Exhaustion ached through his very bones, but the sting in his eyes was overshadowed by a mind that wouldn't stop working, the gears ticking and turning like the clock which had grown too loud. It would be one of those nights, he realized, and he went upstairs, seeking out Nils in case he was home – seeking out some form of relaxation, relief. It would be the salve to help him sleep – sex, that was. His heart sped up as the scenes played out through his mind in black-and-white flashes of light like a silver-screen porno, of Nils and his lithe, flexible body riding his cock, of his skeleton-like hands gliding over his own cock as they flew on euphoria to a colorless burst of non-thinking. That non-thinking was what he sought as much as the writhing pleasure.

The stairs creaked as he stepped on the landing, and he frowned as he found the upstairs was grayed-out as well. His footsteps were mute on the carpet as he crept down the hallway to his bedroom, pushing the door open. The bed was made, the room empty. Taking a step back, he wandered back down the hall like a restless spirit, coming to the bedroom he'd given Nils those first few weeks, the one he hadn't entered since he'd started sleeping with Davey. The door was open and silence hung heavily. He thought maybe Nils was still out until he saw the bathroom door shut, the faintest hint of light trickling from beneath the crack. Something uneasy stirred in his gut and he came into the room, lightly tapping his knuckles against the door.

“Nils? I'm home—” He swallowed hard, staring down at the floor, tilting his head and listening for any noise at all. “I brought you some dinner. It's in the refrigerator—” He was interrupted by a low groan, an almost feeble sounding _'go away'._ That pricked something in the pit of his stomach, and his hand fluttered to the doorknob. There was a pause before the question presented itself far too quietly. “Are you all right?”

To this, there was no response. A taut moment passed. And then Davey pushed the door open. Nils lay on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, his arms encircling his knees like a lanky child. Items were scattered across the floor, across the counter top of the vanity, across the dip of the tub – evidence of a heat-induced tantrum. Davey frowned as he saw jagged fragments of the mirror in the sink along with the carelessly-flung hairdryer, tell-tale red cuts sliced through Nils' knuckles. Nils stared up at him with red-rimmed eyes; they were dry.

“I told you to go thefuck away,” Nils slurred, the curse seeping into the surrounding words in something less than endearing. It was cacophonous, wet sounding like that black soot in his lungs that Davey often thought of.

“Are you drunk?” Davey found himself asking, voice carried on some wind caught between disbelief and disgust.

Those large, almost bulging eyes met his, unfocused. Dilated. A moment passed – a moment of silence, a moment of gauging. “Holyshit,” Nils panted, words slopping together, sloshing like water in a bathtub. “I'm sorry. I only wanted one, I said – only one – but he kept 'em coming.”

“Who kept them coming?” Davey asked through clenched teeth, leaning down to grab Nils by the elbows. He jerked him to his feet too quickly, too sharply. Nils nearly collapsed again, his knees giving out.

“I...I don't know...” A hiccup caught in Nils' throat, then this high-pitched whine. “I don't know, Davey.”

“Well, don't do it again,” was all Davey said. He pushed Nils into the adjacent bedroom and then shut the bathroom door.

Realization lit like a match in Nils' scared eyes, looking like dying stars in the faint light of the bedroom. A foreign, animal-like sound fell from his lips, and he slumped against Davey's chest. “Don't throw me out, baby. I won't do it again. Promise.” Equally sloppy alcohol lips trailed over Davey's skin, burning it with transgressions, with words he thought Davey wanted to hear. Desperation. Tightness. Anything— “Fuckin' love you. Promise...I won't do it again.”

Nausea fermented in the pit of Davey's stomach, and he held Nils up, fingers wrapped tightly around his elbows. A saccharine-fake smile stretched his face tightly. “I won't throw you out.” They stared at each other, Davey with burning coals of eyes and Nils with faint recognition. “Just sleep it off and we'll talk in the morning.” Gently, he pushed Nils down to the bed, ignoring more confused words and innocent, doe-eyed blinks.

Turning his back, he walked out and shut the door.


	6. Chapter 5: Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: I wasn't expecting this chapter to be so angsty. I have to admit I teared up a bit writing it - and I don't usually get so emotionally affected by my own stories. :( And next chapter will be even more involved. This is the bridge between the two states.
> 
> Disclaimer:These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

It wasn't long before Decemberunderground was released. Davey was too busy to talk to Nils about his drunken incident, and he didn't mention it either. The resulting tour meant he didn’t have much time to talk to Nils anyway – just the occasional phone call to check up on him. As much as he told himself it wasn’t because of what he’d found, there was some small part of him, something tiny and ugly and fermenting in the pit of his stomach, that felt otherwise.

Weeks passed like days, and Davey lost track of time. The admiring sea of faces met him each night, identities and names blurred together but voices harmonizing as one. It fueled something deep inside him that kept him going, that made him forget everything else. Days turned into sleepless nights lying in a hotel bed or his bunk all alone, listening to the creaking of walls, of wind, of the bus riding down the road and swaying unpleasantly with each too-jolting movement Smith made. Some nights it was quieter and there was no noise but Adam’s breathing or snores from above him. Some nights he composed poetry about the tour, about the scene, about society in his mind until he fell asleep. Some nights he closed his eyes and imagined one of his bandmates going down on him as he tried to jerk off for some relief, relief which did not come; instead, he was left with dusty remnats of self-loathing.

The desperation settled into the pit of his stomach. And it was on the morning he wandered into the kitchen area of the bus and saw Jade sitting at the table, earbuds in and guitar in his lap, and felt the sultry fingers of desire whispering in his ear that he knew he had to do something about it before it consumed him whole. Sloppily strung together words spilled out, a fumbled excuse about remembering important emails he had to answer, and Smith reluctantly loaned his Mac to him. He received a raised eyebrow as he carried it into the back, ducking into his bunk and pulling the curtain for what little privacy he could get.

With shaking hands, he pulled out his cell phone and sent Nils a short text, a simple request – this time not hidden behind cryptic words and shaded meanings. It was clear, concise: _’Join me. On Skype.’_ By the time he pressed send and turned back to the computer, signing into Skype, he could hear his own breathing, ragged but soft and shallow.

Minutes ticked by and he watched the screen, transfixed, apprehension tensing every muscle and making his heart pound in his ears. Impatience weighed down on him, and he scrolled through his list of online contacts. Nils’ name was nowhere on the list, but Ryan’s was; he found himself moving to click on it. For a moment, he hovered the cursor over his name, chewing his lower lip, his heart beating faster. He swallowed hard, finger poised over the touchpad; Ryan would do anything he asked him to. All he’d have to do was click. His attention was diverted when the notification popped up – Nils was online and the decision was made for him.

Without wasting another second, Davey clicked on his name, initiating the video call. He sank back against his pillows, adjusting the screen so Nils would be able to see more than just his face. A moment later, Nils accepted the call and materialized on the screen, looking half-asleep, the lightest dusting of stubble lining his jaw. He blinked, eyes bleary, and propped his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Hey, beautiful,” Davey purred, voice drawn in low tones and searing heat. He leaned closer to the camera, eyes half-lidding.

“You woke me up, you fuck.” Nils rubbed his face, an exasperated groan falling from his lips. “What do you want? It’s too early.”

Something twinged in Davey’s chest, and he had to swallow back any crude comments. He pressed his lips tightly together, the pit of his stomach feeling cardboard. “Charmed, I see.” He brushed his hair out of his face, adjusting the screen again, eyes flicking to the contact list and Ryan’s name. Regret stirred inside him. “Were you up all night again?”

To this, Nils shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” He leaned back in his chair, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes focused on something in the corner.

Silence ensued. Davey studied his face through the screen; he looked so much older already. Perhaps it was the stubble and the exhaustion and the shadows under his eyes; self-conscious, he reached up to trace fingers along his own cheek, wondering if he looked haggard from sleepless nights too. He wondered what Nils had been doing, if he’d been partying too, if he’d been drinking again. Pushing that thought from his mind, he spoke up, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry for waking you,” he began, forming the words in slow, careful arrangements. “But I missed you.”

A snort fell from Nils’ lips, and he opened his eyes a little more – blue, piercing eyes that made Davey’s stomach hurt. “Yeah, sure.” Nils lowered his head, hair falling in his face, and he felt around the desk until he found what he wanted – his pack of cigarettes. “I know why you’re calling me. Why don’t you just get it over with so I can have my cigarette?”

Davey winced, appetite waning. “If you don’t feel like it, just say so.” Even he was surprised at how quiet his voice was.

An exasperated sigh sounded like wind against the speakers. Nils put his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his seat. This time, he dared not look at Davey – but that didn’t mean Davey couldn’t see the glassy, glazed look that came to his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Davey, you already woke me up. Just do it.” He swallowed hard, his eyes still directed at the ceiling.

Hesitating, Davey glanced from Nils to the wall. Discomfort flooded his head, the pressure of which was enough to give him a headache. “Don’t feel obligated.”

Nils flicked his gaze back to the screen, looking tired, looking beaten down. The light in his eyes made Davey’s chest ache again – but for a different reason this time. He parted his lips to ask if something was wrong, but Nils beat him to it. “Yeah, okay. I gotta go. I’m sorry.” Right before Nils ended the call and the screen went black, Davey saw the lines in his face draw taut, like he might cry.

For a few seconds, he stared at the screen, his mind buzzing. Dazed, he sat back. After a moment, he straightened up, a mumbled _‘fuck it’_ falling from his lips. He pushed all inhibitions aside and clicked on Ryan’s username. He couldn’t think about Nils anymore.

\--

It was with lukewarm conviction that he mustered the strength to invite Nils to the MTV Video Music Awards two months later. They hadn’t seen each other at all since he’d left, with the phone calls and Skype sessions being few and far between. Nils was still living at his house, though, and each time he thought about him, he felt this strange longing. The words he’d spoken but two months prior were now true – he missed him. And he worried.

The phone call took place late at night, where he remained sequestered away, alone, in a hotel room. He explained to Nils’ silence that they would be flying him out to New York City for the awards, that he had a guest pass ready for him. As he said this, he glanced to where the plastic laminate lay on the nightstand, lonely and unused. As Nils said he supposed he could go, Davey’s eye wandered over the flat lines of the made bed, over the crisp white sheets that he imagined would feel so good against his bare skin – had he been able to sleep or had a naked, willing body to share the bed with. He dropped his eyes to his hands, a hollow forming in his chest.

Davey told him he’d meet him at the airport the next day, that he’d found this charming vegan café he thought Nils would enjoy. For the first time over the past few months, he heard a hint of a smile in Nils’ voice as he said he would like that. And then, like many nights before, Nils ended the conversation. He had to go, he said. There was no explanation. There was no reason. There was nothing except a distracted goodbye and the call of the dial tone in Davey’s ear.

He wondered if he was the fool.

\--

When he met Nils, it was bordering on late afternoon, the rays of the sun fading from white to a golden yellow-orange. Davey had almost been worried Nils couldn’t make it in time; they had several hours to spare but too much to do. But then he saw him weaving through the crowd, hanging onto that same battered suitcase he’d thrown into the backseat of his SUV several months prior. Davey offered a smile and stepped forward to greet him, encasing him in his arms and pulling him close, the feeling like his chest caving in. He planted kisses along Nils’ neck, each one firm yet discreet. And beneath his lips, he felt Nils’ pulse beating faster.

Slowly, Nils pressed closer and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, this meek, nearly embarrassed statement. At first, Davey didn’t understand, but as he buried his face in the collar of Nils’ jacket and caught the scent of cigarettes and alcohol, it clicked. And in that moment, he was just _so relieved_ he wanted to throw everything aside and kiss him on the mouth right there. He refrained, instead giving him a smile that suppressed the intensity.

Traffic was thick and unmovable on the trip from the airport to the hotel. Davey started a conversation, small talk, with the cab driver – a man he soon learned was also Italian. Jokes and family stories were traded, shared memories of holidays where everyone was gathered around a too small table, of endless arrays of food offered on plates that weren’t nearly big enough and mothers who said they looked hungry though they couldn’t eat another bite. The only time Nils looked up was when the cabbie offered a cigarette; Davey declined it, but Nils took it. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Nils held it delicately between two fingers, other hand preoccupied with his phone. He didn’t look at Davey until after he’d paid their tab and taken his suitcase, urging him to get out.

As they went into the hotel, Nils hung back, even after he’d dropped his cigarette into an ash tray near the front. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that Nils finally took his hand, staring down at it and running his thumb over the skin. There was something almost sad in the gesture – but not in his eyes. They were hollow, a shell of a ghost, something that spoke in laced whispered but didn’t exist anymore. Davey felt his heart beating faster as Nils spoke, but not for his words.

“I’m sorry I haven’t talked a lot. I’ve been busy and stuff…” He swallowed hard, keeping his eyes down. “We can do something if you want to…you know.” He shook his hair out of his face, staring at the display on the elevator, watching the numbers switch with each heartbeat.

“Of course.” This time, it was Davey who had to look away.

And Davey felt himself sinking further and further through the floor with each number, with each pulse and word and inch they moved up. He was dizzy when the bell finally dinged and they stepped out into the plush, carpeted hallway – this was what harlequin romances were made of. Hotel rooms and fast escapades, getaways and giveaways of each piece of the heart. And he was giving away each piece of his heart like he was the one swallowing it whole. It wasn’t Nils’ fault. Nils wasn’t doing anything but living and breathing. It wasn’t fair to blame him for the resounding emptiness that resided inside. The unfulfillment. The sick need to tie him up and tell him _‘don’t leave’_. It wasn’t fair because they were already drifting away.

They reached the hotel room Davey had reserved just for them. It was a semblance of something that should’ve been special – a classy suite, some piece of advice Jade had given him not that long ago. But this was a hotel room that Jade and Marissa would share – not him and Nils. That became more than apparent as Nils shifted, looking around with his arms crossed self-consciously, like he was afraid to step inside or touch anything. But then Davey beckoned for him to follow and Nils obeyed.

They went to the bedroom, where Davey sank down to the edge of the bed. He started to open his arms to Nils, but Nils fell to his knees instead. He fell to his knees and worshiped like Davey had imagined him doing for so long – so long that it felt meaningless and worn. Disappointment collected thickly in his throat but he said nothing, favoring to go through the motions. He put a hand in Nils’ hair as the boy fumbled with his belt, his zipper. And no matter how many times Davey tried to catch his gaze, he couldn’t. Nils was out of his reach.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting Nils run his fingers over his cock until the tingle was too much to bear, until the sensation itself turned him on. And through the cloud of self-inflicted misery, the pleasure cut through in slices and shreds; Nils took him whole in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, moaning around his cock, rolling his balls in the palm of his hand. His body reacted by habit, by force of nature.

It took several minutes that felt far too long before the pleasure burned hotter and hotter to blinding crescendo – and everything after that was the fall, a skyscraper’s plummet to the spaces beneath the earth. When their eyes finally met, Davey had nothing to say, not even the _‘thank you’_ on the tip of his tongue because he hadn’t really enjoyed it. There was nothing but the lump in his throat. Ruffling Nils’ hair, he leaned in for a kiss. And when their lips met, there was nothing left.


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: I know I said this chapter would be more involved, but...I realized this bridge piece felt necessary and significant (and I really liked the mental image when I thought it up), so I put it in. But I promise...next chapter is most definitely the climax. Also, I'm sorry for my spelling mistakes in the last chapter. I don't know why my word processor didn't catch them, but I fixed them now. *embarrassed*
> 
> Disclaimer: These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

They lay in the late night, the light of a lonely lamp spreading its incandescent white-yellow glow over the beds. Silence hung over them, much like it had all evening, ever since Nils had first arrived at the hotel room. Davey had taken him out to eat before the video music awards, during which Nils had seemed more preoccupied with invisible specs floating in space than with conversation. Neither had he had much to say immediately after the show, where he'd been watching in the front row. Davey had recalled looking down to catch his eye right before he launched into the bridge of Miss Murder, seeing nothing but distance and indifference. That was what had led them to where they were now, naked bodies folded against each other, damp skin cooling from a round of heated sex. Heated sex initiated by the desperation to elicit feeling between them – the same spark and awe that had persisted before, back when hedonism was their shared ideal, when Nils was the disciple and he was the idol of his affections.

This time didn't feel the same. This time, Davey had pressed up against his back afterward until their bodies became one again, draping an arm around his waist and holding him close, burying his nose and mouth in the back of a skinny shoulder. The bone there protruded sickly – evidence that he hadn't been eating. He could feel Nils' heart pounding beneath his hold even after they'd been lying there for about fifteen minutes, long after his own heart had calmed. And he was only left to wonder what was going on because Nils wasn't talking.

His stomach sank and he pressed closer, knees fitting into the backs of Nils' knees. Nils only curled further into himself, arms crossed over his stomach; Davey felt the involuntary quivers start to course through Nils, and the first fingers of realization seeped coldly into his chest.

Pressing a quiet kiss to Nils' shoulder, he sighed heavily through his nose, deciding to shatter the silence. "Tell me what's wrong."

He felt Nils stiffen in his arms, entire body going rigid, his breathing all but stopping in that moment. The tension pulled tauter in the air, to the point it was stifling. It took him far too long to reply. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A frown creased Davey's brow, and he hooked his chin over Nils' shoulder, turning his head to look at him. Nils' eyes were half-closed and directed on the nightstand, clouded over and dull. "You're shaking," he finally said, his voice taking on a softer tone. "Did I hurt you?" He ran a hand down Nils' side and back up again in a soothing, ebbing rhythm, like a ceaseless tide.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Nils swallow hard. "No."

"Then what's wrong?" Davey's tone remained calm and even, though inside his heart was sinking more and more. The whispers in the back of his mind told him what was wrong, but he didn't want to listen to them, didn't want to believe them.

His suspicions were only confirmed when Nils told him, "I don't want to talk." Again, there was silence, this time more isolating than before. And though they were pressed as close as physically possible, Davey had never felt so distant from another person as he did now. That was when Nils asked, "Can I go home soon?"

Words were building up in Davey's head, strings like _why are you doing this?_ and _you don't have to be with me._ Before he could stop himself, the flare of indignation took over and he released a short, punctuated breath, the force of which was enough to make Nils turn around in his arms and look at him with large, blue eyes. In that moment, the youthfulness and fear and neediness flooded back, and his faltering lips formed words of regret.

"Davey, please don't be mad. I'm sorry... I'm just not feeling good." He bit his lip, fretful gaze sweeping over Davey's face. He curled up against Davey's chest, tucking his head under his chin as though it were a peace offering, an apologetic gesture to atone for the truth that had slipped past the hairline cracks just moments before.

Davey shouldn't have accepted it, but the pity took over, like one would feel for an orphaned animal at the shelter. Nils didn't have anyone or anything else – he had to remind himself of this. Reluctantly, he caved. "It's all right," he soothed, lowering his eyes and running a hand over Nils' back. "You can go home tomorrow if you'd like. Everything will be all right."

A shuddering sigh met his skin, and he felt Nils' lips grace the same spot seconds later, relief which should've been gratitude. This time, Nils put his arms around him too and held him, their chests pressed together. His heart didn't slow and his shaking didn't cease, but Davey said nothing more about it. He just held him and let him withdraw.

Sleep never came.


	8. Chapter 6: Crescendo (Pt I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: Ohhh, boy. This is where it starts to get really ugly. So I had to split this chapter into two parts (got too lengthy), and I already hate that it's over 3,000 words each. But it was necessary. I do have one little warning - there is a scene at the end of the chapter that may be uncomfortable to read, but I don't think I can give it away here, so I'll just leave it at that.
> 
> Disclaimer: These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

Davey tried not to think too much about Nils. He couldn't afford to be distracted during the tour, and as long as he received a text from him each day, he could sate himself with the knowledge he was alive. It was silly to think he wouldn't be. But he couldn't help but wonder if he was sick, especially as the texts turned to sexts turned to sensual Skype calls and he looked more and more worn down and ashen, exhausted. Questions got them nowhere; Nils either refused to answer or blew him off so he stopped asking. But when he stopped asking, Nils started asking – for more money.

The way these requests came directly after sexual encounters started to make even Davey uneasy. It wasn't like Nils would ask right after they'd orgasmed – but it was too close for comfort. Davey decided he would talk to him about it when he visited him in Vegas – with the rest of his OC crew.

It wasn't until mid-September that AFI had a short break and the group converged, however, at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. Davey had already reserved the rooms months in advance, wanting his crew to be as comfortable as possible. He'd spent far too much money on them, on special suites and plane tickets and gifts. Sometimes he wondered how many of them would still be around if it all went away. He already knew the answer but he drank in their adoration all the same, like the sweetly poisoned designer words they were. He would take until there was nothing left and force it into the gaping void that never ceased to be filled.

Davey got to the hotel early, checking into the penthouse suite he'd reserved for himself and his boy, taking some time to put his things away and change. As he gazed out the window over the large lagoon pool, past his naked reflection, he found his mind drifting to his last conversation with Nils earlier that week. As usual, he hadn't had much to say, but he had promised to get there early so they could have some fun. Since that morning, he'd texted him several times to schedule a meet-up, all to no avail. He hadn't heard from him and he certainly hadn't seen him. By that point, he'd wondered if his phone had died or had been stolen, and had sent him an email as well as leaving a voicemail with their room information, just in case he decided to show up. Flustered, he slipped on a pair of brightly colored, cheap flip-flops and headed downstairs, sending a mass text to his crew that he'd be out by the pool.

Ryan was the first to arrive. They exchanged the obligatory hugs and kisses before settling down, each ordering something to drink and waiting on the others. As they lounged in the long chairs, Davey cut coy glances over in Ryan's direction, quirking half-smirks and pretty words wherever he felt it was appropriate. Although young, Ryan knew all of Davey's tricks and shot them back as easily as batting a ping-pong ball. That was one of the things Davey appreciated the most about him – and the game had stepped up a notch since their encounter on Skype the morning Nils had turned him down.

Their flirtations and light touches were interrupted shortly as a shadow fell across Davey, and then two arms wrapped around his neck, a pair of lips pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek. A sudden jolt rocked his stomach, but it sank when he caught the scent of perfume – Brittany's perfume.

"Hey, handsome," she greeted teasingly, her green eyes sparkling. She licked her lips, playfully baring her teeth at him.

"Hello there, gorgeous." Smiling pleasantly, he scooted over to let her sit next to him, absentmindedly passing her his drink as they lapsed into casual conversation. Now it was Brittany who flirted with him, hanging on his every word and keeping her hand on his shoulder or chest, seemingly fascinated by the stories he had to tell. Over her shoulder, he could see Ryan occasionally laughing or rolling his eyes.

One by one, his crew showed up – all save for Nils. As the afternoon wore on, he felt the anxiety mounting in the pit of his stomach – anxiety that turned into text messages which were left unanswered. He frowned a bit and pulled his sunglasses down, scanning the poolside for Nils' lithe, boyish figure, only to come up empty-handed.

"Have any of you seen Nils?" he asked casually, his eyes lighting on each of his disciples.

There was a strained silence before Brittany finally spoke up, her eyes the only ones that dared to meet Davey's. "I saw him at a club in LA on Thursday," she said quietly, her hands in her lap. "I don't know what he was doing there but he wouldn't talk to me. I tried to say hi..." She shrugged a bit, looking away as Davey started to frown. "I don't think he saw me, though."

"LA? That doesn't make much sense. He would've said something—" Davey began, but then stopped himself. He couldn't be certain of that.

"I don't know. It might've been someone else—I was kinda drunk." Brittany smiled, shrugging again. "I'll text him now."

As she bent over her phone, Ryan twisted in his seat, chin lifted as he looked around the area. Squinting, he brought a hand up over his eyes, which lit up in recognition. "Oh, there he is. He's coming."

A wave of relief washed over Davey as he turned to see Nils trudging their way, dressed in tight jeans and a black t-shirt, his sunglasses shielding his eyes and his expression stoic. As he came closer, Davey reached out for him, a sweeping offer of a gesture, an invitation to sit at his left as he'd been appointed long ago. Nils favored a quick glance in his direction before accepting it, the only acknowledgment a vaguely mumbled greeting that sent Davey's heart rabbiting. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brittany gazing at them in hesitation, frozen like she was expecting the tension to burst any moment. And Davey felt the same – until Nils kicked off his shoes and curled up against his side like he was meant to, head coming to rest on his chest, demure and submissive.

"Sorry I'm late. I got confused about the flight." He turned his head up at Davey, his eyes still hidden from view. Even so, Davey found his gaze tracing the tired lines of Nils' face, the premature aging evidence of sleeplessness.

A beat. Davey found himself short on words, short of any reaction at all. It was only after the fact that he realized the words had found him. "It's fine—"

Nils interrupted him before he could go on. "Could you get me a drink?" he asked, voice coarse and worn from misuse. "Something hard, please."

What should have been a _no_ turned into a _yes_. The same guilt chiseled at the pit of his stomach as he sent the order along to one of the boys by the pool, a boy who he would've easily flirted with had the situation been different. But right now, he couldn't so much as think about it, mind clouded over by the burning sensation of Nils' hand against his bare stomach where his fingers were lightly stroking him, by the burning guilt stirring in the pit of his gut. It mounted as the drink was brought back – a liquor of some sort – and transferred to Nils. Sitting up, Nils accepted the drink and leaned against Davey's shoulder, sipping at it and finally taking his sunglasses off. Turning to face Davey, he pressed an alcohol-tinged kiss to the corner of his mouth, something that was not returned. Instead, Davey looked back towards his crew, heart sinking like a stone.

The gifts were handed out shortly after, the identical silver rabbits which marked each of them as his own. Nils watched in lukewarm intrigue as he pulled the boxes out, something faint sparking in his eyes, something like the beginnings of realization – but not quite. Not until the ribbons were removed and discarded, useless decoration, and the lids tossed carelessly aside. The reaction wasn't quite what he'd hoped he'd receive – his heart sank more as their appreciation left him desperate to find understanding in any of them. But there was no understanding – he was alone in that understanding.

Brittany put hers on right away, thanking Davey more heartily than the others with a kiss to the mouth as Nils watched on. And Davey could see his expression darken from the corner of his eye, could see the way his knuckles turned whiter from his grip around the glass. That was when Davey realized Nils wasn't wearing his necklace. It was the first time he'd seen him without it since he'd given it to him. Turning to look at him, their eyes met, and a sharp flash like the clashing of knives passed between them.

Nils turned away and downed the rest of his drink.

–

It was later that evening the crew all headed out to one of Vegas' illustrious clubs for a night on the town. To complete the illusion, they'd asked Davey to get them a limo, which he'd gladly indulged them with. Nils tagged along as well, though Davey had almost expected him not to. He remained silent, pressed close to Davey's side though his gaze was trained out the tinted window, watching streetlights and flashy, would-be hookers passing by.

He said nothing until they got to the club, which was when he finally locked his gaze with Davey, running his hand over his arm and then his side, leaning close enough for his breath to tickle his cheek. Whispered words of what he'd do to Davey, what he couldn't wait to do when they were alone again, trickled as sweetly as honeyed water from his lips. It was even before he ceased the flattery – flattery Davey recognized all too well as his own – that he knew what he wanted. And though he wanted to tell him something like _you don't have to lay it on so thick_ , he did nothing more than open his wallet and press a few dollar bills in his hand, that all too familiar sinking sensation settling in the pit of his stomach.

A tired smile lighted on Nils' lips as he clutched his prize, and he leaned forward to kiss Davey on the cheek. Davey was struck by how absurd this was, how much it'd turned from intrigue to demeaning. But he just smiled wanly back, something fond tracing the laugh lines around his eyes as he watched Nils go his way to the bar, where he knew he'd stay for quite some time.

"You're not just gonna stand there, are you?" Ryan's voice spoke up, tearing him from his thoughts. He reached for Davey's hand, pulling him out into the crowd of pulsing bodies and painfully bright strobe lights. "Come on, Havok – dance."

"We've barely gotten here. It's strange of you to assume I wouldn't," Davey quipped, pressing his body into Ryan's, his eyes flashing feral. A look of recognition passed through Ryan's eyes, and he realized he was thinking of that moment too.

Pressing a quick kiss to Davey's jaw line, Ryan smirked and murmured, "You're something else, did you know that? If you hadn't brought your boy toy along, maybe you and I could have some fun." He grinned, winking at Davey.

"Oh, you know the game too well, my dear," Davey purred, turning him around to grind against his ass, laughing in the back of his throat. Here, he let his mouth drift near Ryan's ear, lips tracing over the shell of it. "Unfortunately, I have to decline the invitation. Whether you believe it or not, I have someone to take care of." He flicked his gaze towards Nils' sickly figure, which was hunched over the bar. He hadn't stolen another glance at Davey since the exchange.

A barking half-laugh, half-snort burst from Ryan's lips, and he stared at Davey as he shook his head. "I don't know what you see in him, sorry. He's a cool guy but he's not good for you."

"And you are?" Davey raised a carefully manicured eyebrow. "Don't be silly, Ryan."

An impish grin stretched across Ryan's face, and he shook his head. "Nah, you know we're just having fun. But he's playing you. You know that."

"We both know that," Davey said, voice suddenly softer now. He glanced at Nils again, noticing the way Ryan continued to stare at him from the corner of his eye. "But I'm stricken..." He pressed his lips tightly together, shooting a sharp look from impossibly dark eyes, the kind that shut Ryan up. He offered no more information either, instead favoring a deep kiss on the mouth. In that same moment, he caught a glimpse of Nils looking over, and he felt like the floor was dropping out from beneath him. Instead of trying, he just closed his eyes and chose to ignore.

For a while after that, Nils disappeared. Davey spent only four more songs grinding up against Ryan until he was unbearably hot, his pants too tight and stifling. He pressed through the sweaty bodies to get to the bar, out of breath from ministrations and thirsty from the humid heat of the club. As he sat down with a glass of ice water, he scoped out the dance floor, trying to find his boy. He was nowhere in sight. That in itself made him uneasy all over again. Pulling out his cell phone, he started to send a text message to Nils, wanting him to meet him at the bar.

After several minutes of waiting, he was almost sure he wouldn't show up. But just as he was staring off towards the bathrooms, Nils slunk in from the opposite direction, draping himself across Davey's lap and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. There was something not quite right about the touch, and it brought Davey's attention to him in an instant, his body tensing before he realized it was someone he knew.

"Hey, baby," Nils slurred, an unnerving smile twitching on his lips. He leaned in to kiss Davey from his Adam's apple to his jaw.

"Where have you been?" Davey couldn't help but ask, tilting his head away from Nils as he tried to capture his lips. He wasn't ready for that – not yet.

"Around," Nils replied casually, snaking a hand up the front of Davey's shirt and tracing through the beaded lines of sweat there. He moved to straddle Davey, pressing himself against his crotch and moaning in the back of his throat. "Mmm, I'm so horny right now. Wanna fuck?"

"You're drunk again." It was clipped, nearly clinical.

Nils snorted, grinning too widely. "Drunk? Who the fuck cares? Sex is sex, right?" His eyes sought Davey's approval as his hand wandered farther up his shirt. "C'mon, baby. I really wanna fuck." He rocked his hips against Davey's, ass brushing against his erection and making him gasp quietly.

From his peripheral vision, Davey saw Ryan and Brittany coming through the crowd hand-in-hand; he wasn't the only one who saw. Nils wrapped his legs around his waist, forcing their bodies together, panting heatedly against Davey's mouth. Out of instinct, Davey put his hands on Nils' hips, gently holding him so they wouldn't topple over. Already, the edge of the black-top bar was cutting into his back, and he could feel the stool sliding from beneath them. "Be careful—"

Nils ignored him, running one hand down the front of his body, grasping his cock through the fabric of his jeans. He rubbed the heel of his hand there, sending sparks of blinding pleasure through Davey's body until his mouth opened in a silent moan. It was enough of a distraction to slow common sense down, to stop him from thinking _at all_ as Nils hastily unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding his hand in. It was only then that Davey snapped back to thinking, the moment he felt the cooler air on his heated skin. Quickly, he smacked Nils' hand away and tucked himself in his jeans, zipping them up again.

"You can't do that now," he hissed, staring at him with a poisonous gaze. He could see a few other people looking at them, somewhat disgusted and mouthing words he was sure were anything but flattering. "It's not that kind of club. Do you want us to get arrested?"

"I thought you were into that shit," Nils retorted, pressing Davey back against the bar again. "Voyeurism and stuff. You're always telling me about it when we talk about fantasies and shit."

"Yes, but there is a time and place for that. And here isn't that time or place."

"Whatever happened to 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas'?"

"Are you insane?" They stared at each other for several moments, barely breathing. Nothing even close to realization passed through Nils' eyes. Disenchanted, Davey shoved him away, nearly causing him to fall. He would have if he hadn't grabbed Davey around the waist for support before he was forced to his feet. "We're leaving."

Nils' brow furrowed in frustration, in hurt. "Why are you rejecting me? I thought you wanted me—"

Gritting his teeth, Davey stood, hurrying to button his jeans while he was at it. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. You're clearly not. Come on – we're going back to the room so you can take a cold shower and sober up." He put a hand on the back of Nils' neck, leading him towards the door. As he passed by Ryan, he saw him mouth something at him, but he just shook his head. He was in no mood to talk right now.

They left the club right as he saw security heading towards the bar, probably looking for them, he figured. Angry and embarrassed, he called a cab to head back to the hotel.


	9. Chapter 7: Crescendo (Pt II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: One more chapter after this! I can't believe it's already coming to an end. Augh. I'm already working through details of my next Nilvey, which will (hopefully) be less of an emotional trainwreck.
> 
> Disclaimer: These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

Nils was crying – Davey could hear him through the bathroom door. Since they'd gotten back to the hotel, they'd coexisted in stony silence, neither of them saying anything to the other. Davey said nothing because he was angry. Nils said nothing because he was afraid. And Davey knew what he was afraid of – being kicked out.

As much as he was angry, he couldn't help but pity the boy too. It was pity more like the kind people exhibited when they shook their heads and murmured things like _it's a shame._ It was a shame, and it was clear to Davey more than ever what was going on. He wouldn't let himself think it now.

It had been a long time since Nils had locked himself into the bathroom; true to his word, he'd gone to shower and sober up. But it'd been nearly an hour now, an hour of the sound of water running and Nils' muffled sniffles resounding off the bathroom tiles. Surely by now he was in his right mind, and Davey was certain he was overwhelmed by guilt and self-loathing. He knew the feeling all too well. However, his patience and pity was growing thin, and he needed some time away from the boy and his pitiful baby-blue eyes so he could gather his thoughts. Most of all, he wanted to make sure his name – and AFI's name – wasn't slurred through the mud thanks to that incident.

He changed into his swim trunks and grabbed his key card as well as his cell phone. Since Nils was in the bathroom, he flung open one of their suitcases and grabbed a rolled up towel, only realizing after the fact it was Nils' suitcase he'd opened. Going over to the bathroom door, he knocked on it once, telling him, "I'm going to the pool. I'll be back later." He said nothing more, gave no more indication that it was all right. Nils could rot and drown in his self-inflicted sorrows for all he cared; it was his fault, and if he wanted forgiveness, he'd have to ask for it.

On the way to the pool, Davey made a quick call to Smith. He spared him all the details, the thought of which only set his blood aflame all over again. The conversation was short and to the point, ending with the agreement to monitor the news and extinguish any ugly rumors before they could get started.

He chose a spot at the far end of the pool, where he could relax and unwind without being bothered. Sighing heavily, he lowered his body into the water, staying close to the wall so he could hold onto it. Then he leaned his head back and stared up at the desert night sky, letting the cool water caress his body. He stayed like that for a long time, just trying to calm down and wash the sweat away.

Solitude didn't last. People joined him but none of the strangers talked to him, and he didn't initiate conversation either. Two college-aged girls were admiring him – he could tell that much by their giggles and whispers and flushed cheeks – but they didn't dare approach him and he didn't flirt with them either. The people-watching proved to be less than calming as the night wore on and he saw Brittany slip into the gated area, heading in his direction.

She stopped at the edge of the pool and sat down, carefully dangling her feet into the water. She hadn't stopped frowning since she'd arrived, her arms crossed over her chest. Several beats passed before she spoke up. "I just talked to Nils." Her voice was shaky.

Slowly, Davey turned around, keeping his expression blank and unbothered. "And?" He swallowed hard, nearly black coals of eyes daring her to tread any further. They stared each other down.

"You didn't have to act like that, Dave," she finally said, frown deepening. "He's scared to death."

"Well, then, he should've thought before he did that, shouldn't he?" Davey asked coolly, letting himself sink lower in the water. His stomach clenched.

Heaving a sigh, Brittany scooted closer to the edge, closer to him. "He was _drunk_. He said he feels bad about it and wishes he hadn't done it. He wants to apologize to you, but you just ran off without giving him a chance." She paused, eyes searching Davey's as her expression softened. The breeze played with her dark hair, blowing it into her face. "Please don't be like this. Don't freeze him out – I know how you can be."

"And tell me why I shouldn't?" Davey mirrored her expression. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway? It's none of your business."

"Yes, it is. You're both my friends and..." She sighed again, looking towards the string lights wrapped around the railing of the poolside restaurant. "Look, Nils and I have gotten close over the past few months. I love him to pieces, all right? He's confided in me a lot and...and I think he really, really likes you. But he's going through a tough time and he can't tell you about it because you wouldn't understand. That's the thing about you, Dave – sometimes you're so judgmental in your relationships it makes it hard to talk to you."

At this, Davey couldn't help but bark a humorless laugh, his eyes trained on Brittany. "Judgmental? Are you serious?" He tilted his head, brushing his wet hair back. "I don't know what he's told you, but I didn't pick up on any of that _at all_ , except he's been going through a hard time. But if you ask me, that's his own fault."

"Could you just talk to him?" Brittany asked, her words tinged with an exasperated sigh. "I don't like seeing him so hurt. He made a mistake, okay? You know he wouldn't do that when he was sober."

"And that, my dear, is why alcohol should be avoided," Davey replied curtly, moving to grab onto the ladder and hoist himself out of the pool. He stood in front of her, water dripping from his trunks. "I truly have no idea how he made you believe any of that. If you haven't noticed, I've been nothing but accommodating to him. I've asked him countless times what's wrong and never complained about his alcohol or tobacco consumption until it became excessive. He won't talk. He's playing me and now he's playing you."

As he turned around, he caught a glimpse of the troubled frown on Brittany's face again, could hear her scrambling to get to her feet – probably to confront him. Ignoring her, he grabbed his towel and let it fall open, moving to wipe his face with it. Something small fell and hit his foot, and he brought the towel down, stealing a glance. His stomach dropped and his insides felt like they were freezing over, a heaviness like lead settling painfully in his gut. Slowly, he crouched down, hand shaking as he reached for the plastic bag. He brought it up to inspect, his fingertips smoothing the wrinkles over the white powdered contents that looked innocuous enough – perhaps flour or tile cleanser.

"Shit..." he hear himself whispering, the one syllable overpowering Brittany's gasped utter of _Oh my God_. He turned to look at her, their eyes meeting in the aqua half-light of the pool. And then his jaw locked and he quickly concealed the bag in the towel, shaking hands clumsily working the folds to hide it. Paranoia sank in, the fear of someone seeing and drawing his own conclusions. His head felt too light and his stomach wasn't in the right place, not unlike the feeling of take-off or landing.

"I didn't...I didn't know that..." Brittany began, her words stammered and slurring together; just by looking at her, Davey saw similar dizziness in her own eyes.

"It's not mine—" he began, but Brittany nodded and interrupted him before he could go on a dry-mouthed stumbling over incoherent words.

"I know. I know you wouldn't ever—" The realization flashed over her face, and she ran her hands through her hair. Anxious, animal-hurt eyes sought out Davey's. "Was he lying to me?" It hung in the air, thin and scared and pained, sounding too much like a small child.

Cardboard sickness lurched in Davey's stomach and he stared down at the sloppily rolled up towel, his shoulders shrugging of their own accord. "Possibly." _Or he was afraid..._ After a moment, he made up his mind. "I'm going to talk to him." He bit his lip, glancing at Brittany. "We're going to get to the bottom of this."

Nodding and hugging herself, Brittany whispered something that sounded like _okay_ , but Davey couldn't be sure if she'd really said anything at all; he was already hurrying towards the pool gate.

–

When he arrived back at the room, Nils was nowhere in sight. Anxiety swept over him in waves, anxiety that turned into the need to purge. He found himself tearing apart the room, opening drawers and pulling sheets off the bed, turning over couch cushions and looking under furniture. A more thorough inspection of Nils' things revealed sins he hadn't wanted to discover but had been too curious to leave alone – the pipes, the syringes, fresh needles. But what hurt him the most was finding more bags similar to the first one, one of which was filled with brown instead of white powder. His heart was beating so fast it physically hurt, his vision blurring and blacking, legs all but giving out on him.

Breathing hard, he fumbled for his cell phone, blinking back the sting. He felt like he couldn't get enough air, like he couldn't breathe at _all_ , as he made the phone call. Inhaling shakily, he waited for Nils to pick up. The first time, he got voicemail. The second time, Nils answered.

"Hello?"

"I need to see you. _Now._ " The urgency he desperately tried to hide bled into his tone like inky black tendrils, like black-tar into a bloodstream. He felt his heart skip a beat and he tried to catch his breath.

"What—"

Before Nils could protest, Davey cut him off. "Don't ask, just come. I need you here. I need you now."

There was a beat – hesitation. Then, a hesitant voice asked, "Am I in trouble?"

The anxious innocence behind it was almost enough for Davey to give in – almost. But then he looked down at the mess, at the room which was in shambles, and he couldn't just forget it. "I...We'll talk about it." He licked his lips. "Where are you?"

"I...um..." Nils sniffed a bit. "I'm downstairs with Ryan. I'm coming." With that, he hung up. The dial tone buzzed loudly in Davey's ear, resonating through his brain painfully. He stared down at the bag in his hand until the lines blurred over, until he was kicking himself for not asking about it sooner. He waited for Nils to arrive.

Minutes dragged by in what felt like painful hours. The sound of the door unlocking was loud, making him jolt from where he sat on the edge of a lonely bed. Nils peeked in, looking too young for his twenty-one years. Instead of saying anything, Davey just caught his gaze, beckoning for him to come over. Nils did, his eyes flicking around the room and his Adam's apple bobbing as he saw his sins laid out before them in haphazard chaos.

There was a long pause, the silence deafening as it turned to ringing in Davey's ears, the sound of a pulsing heartbeat overtaking any words he could've said. Nils' eyes were now on his hands, on the brown powder bag. His face drained of all color, and now his shaking was visible. Davey spoke up.

"You may live with a rock star," he said carefully, much too calm for the way his stomach threatened to rid of its contents. He stood up, forcing Nils' gaze to his own deep, black one. "But you do not live like a rock star." He dropped the bag to the suitcase with a sickeningly loud sound. Not once did he bring his eyes away from Nils', and not once did Nils attempt to speak. "Why? Why did you do it?"

He watched as Nils swallowed hard, his large eyes darting around the room. Now they were filling with tears and his lips parted, but no sound escaped him except for one sharp, painful breath. Davey watched as the tears spilled over, spreading salty trails down his face and to his neck. A pang settled in Davey's heart, a pang of hurt and pity. Slowly, he stepped forward and awkwardly put his arms around Nils, who crumpled against his chest and buried his face in his shoulder.

They stood like that for what felt like a long time, heartbeats pressed together and feeding each other, arms wound tightly around each other. Nils' fingers dug into Davey's skin, the wetness of tears seeping against his shoulder and mixing with remnants of chlorine. Silent tears turned to breathless sniffles turned to excused words, broken fragments like _I didn't mean to_ and _I don't know what happened._ Davey responded to these statements neither positively or negatively, instead favoring stony silence and a pseudo-comforting embrace.

He wanted to ask him _why_. Why he'd gotten mixed up in drugs, why he'd hidden it from him, why he'd lied to Brittany. But in the end, nothing came out until Nils hiccuped that he'd _just_ bought the drugs, and that was when he snapped.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, tilting his head down to look at Nils, his eyes broken like the stars in the sky. Disenchantment dulled his senses, the soft buzzing in the back of his mind all too familiar. "Why would you do something like that? Take my money and use it for destruction?" He paused, eyes locked with watery depths of blue. No response passed Nils' trembling, parted lips. He was just a child – a child that didn't understand the extent of damage he'd caused. "Heroin, Nils? Really? You're better than this. How could you...?"

"I never lied to you," Nils insisted, voice shaken, aching. He sniffed again, hanging his head so Davey couldn't see his eyes. But Davey didn't need to see them; he already knew what he'd find. "I'm telling you the truth. I just bought those. I haven't even used heroin yet. I...I was just..."

"Looking for something harder? The cocaine wasn't enough?" Davey interjected, eyes narrowing. "I surely hope you weren't planning on speedballing. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if I'd come up here and found you dead on my floor with a needle in your vein? Heroin is nothing to play with. You should know that – it kills."

"Yeah? Well, I..." Nils stopped there, letting his hair fall in his face. "I knew what I was doing. I've been on coke for a while. You got to believe me, Davey. I can handle it. I can—"

"Stop." Davey took his chin between a finger and a thumb, tilting his head up to look him straight in the eyes. This time, his own eyes flashed, no-nonsense. "You can never know what you're doing when it comes to drugs. I can already see the change in you. Those things people tell you about them, that you won't get addicted, that you don't change...it's bullshit." The last word was spat. "You're not yourself anymore. You've lied to me, used me, and hurt yourself. Don't you see? You've pushed everyone away because of it. All those friends you lost? It wasn't because you were a victim. It was because you had a problem. And I can see that too clearly now. I'm just sorry I enabled it." He dropped Nils' head, pulling away from him. The distance between them felt far too wide, the cool air making him break out into goosebumps and shiver.

Lifting his head, Nils stared at him with pleading eyes, apologies lighting on his lips. "I'm sorry. I really am. Please, please don't—"

Davey turned his back; he couldn't look at Nils if he had to say it like this. "Don't apologize to me," he said, tone devoid of emotion. Beyond the surface, he could feel his insides coiling and aching, melting together and burning his esophagus. "I know what you're going to say so let's make this short. I cared about you, Nils. I would've done anything for you. Maybe I could've even fallen in love with you..."

There was pained silence. Nils said nothing, but Davey heard him sniff and knew he was crying again.

Continuing, Davey picked his way through the room's wreckage, of luxury unturned. "However, I cannot continue to enable this behavior. I cannot let you destroy yourself with drugs and alcohol. That's why you've been asking for money, isn't it? To fuel your habit?" He picked up a sheet off the floor, carefully fitting it to the bed, just going through mechanical motions. Silence answered him again, this time louder and lonelier than before. He ended it. "I won't leave you homeless yet, but this is your ultimatum. Clean up, get a job, then get out. Do you hear me? We're through." He felt the heat rush to his face, his head spinning with dizziness. Ignoring it, he picked up another sheet, smoothing it out over the mattress and tucking the ends under. His heart was pounding again, his own eyes burning like he might burst. But he didn't cry, instead clenching his jaw and straightening up to look at Nils.

There were no words to describe the way he felt when he saw his face. He'd never seen anyone look so broken, so afraid, so alone. And it took every ounce of his willpower to keep from going over and holding him, from telling him it was okay and he wasn't going anywhere. The truth of the matter was he didn't feel the same. What he felt was different now, a protective instinct for a child who didn't know how to pick up the pieces. But Davey was done. He refused to pick them up for him.

"I'll get rid of the drugs," he said calmly. "I won't let them find you out this time but if you continue, sooner or later you'll overstep the line." With that, he breezed past Nils, swiping the bags up with a quick motion of his hand. He didn't look at him again as he left the room.


	10. Postlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Chapter Notes: Here it is...the concluding piece of the puzzle. I couldn't bring myself to post it on Saturday...maybe it was just that I didn't want to let go yet. But I have to let this story go. Sigh. Anyway, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed, who's stuck with this story to the very end. It means more to me than words can ever express.
> 
> Disclaimer: These are mere characters based on the members and associates of AFI (not the real people, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

Weeks had passed, and Davey still struggled to understand. As promised, he kept Nils safely tucked under his wing, caring for him but refusing payment of any kind, whether physical or not. The ultimatum hung like a death sentence, the likes of which sent Nils into silent, depressing nights locked away. Davey's own insomnia kept him up, mind plagued with thoughts and memories, with the sound of an air conditioning unit that switched on past the prime of summer and chilled the hotel rooms he stayed in until he bundled up in the thin blankets, staring at the blinking numbers of an alarm clock. He was trying, Nils said with agonized eyes, each time Davey asked him about his vices, about his job search. But trying wasn't _doing_ , and the separation made him wonder if Nils was really doing anything at all. The waiting became unbearable.

The tour wore on and Davey found himself forgetting about Nils. He couldn't think about him when there were shows to play, people to meet, business to conduct. Each town held a little something different for them, even if the words were the same. Each fan's eagerness and grateful tears, though overwhelming, was appreciated. He started to sew his own wounds up, carefully suturing them with the catharsis of his own poetry, of the fame, of the admiration of fans and friends alike.

He went home briefly sometime around Christmas. It felt like it'd been an eternity since he and Nils had begun the tumultuous roller-coaster of a relationship – and even longer since it'd fallen through. Truthfully, he didn't know what he was expecting when he got home, but he didn't fully expect to find what he did.

The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet where he knew it was empty, that no one had been inside for days if not weeks. The stillness was unsettling and made his heart speed up, fear of something having happened to Nils. Cursing under his breath, he dropped his bags and rushed through the foyer, stopping in the hallway only as something in the kitchen caught his eye. Slowly, he stepped over the threshold, eyes locked on the piece of lined notebook paper that had been carefully folded and placed on the black granite of the kitchen island. Flicking his tongue out over his lips, he picked it up and unfolded it with trembling fingers.

The words were written in careless scrawl. They were familiar and yet hadn't met his eyes in quite some time. He read it over once, twice, thrice before it started to make any semblance of sense, past jumbled scribbles and loops that barely took form to Nils' voice. But what really struck him was the second line, after he'd explained he'd left. _"I couldn't stop."_

Humble words of gratitude and meek apologies passed before his eyes as he kept returning to that line over and over again, the sickness settling in the pit of his stomach. He sank into a chair, holding the note with a shaking hand, re-reading the words that he shouldn't worry, that he shouldn't call. He'd find his way, he said – he always did. He had a few modeling jobs lined up with magazines, something that would be enough to feed him and buy him cheap rent at a motel. Maybe he couldn't pay him back, he said, but he could remove his burden. He didn't want to take Davey's charity any longer if there was nothing he could do in return.

Lifting his eyes from the letter, Davey swallowed hard. His eyes traced over the familiar lines of the kitchen, over the counter tops and cabinets. That was when he noticed the glint on the floor. Getting up, he went over, crouching down to pick it up. His fingers found it before it registered – the cool metal of a rabbit-shape against his fingertips. Grieved, he held the chain up, studying the solitary hare that dangled from his fingertips. _The cycle. The absence of rebirth._

Nils was gone, he told himself, sitting on the kitchen floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. And in that instant, none of it mattered. The fame, the fortune, the admiring throngs and Hollywood friends who welcomed him with open arms. The glitter and glamor. It all passed away, dust in the wind, and he felt just as corrupted as Nils was in the end. And he still blamed himself for the downfall, for the falling out, for the failure. The love hadn't been possible, even as real and stark and true as it felt now – now that it was gone.

Tears traced the lines of his vision and he curled into himself, holding the pendant close to his still beating heart. Just like Nils, he would lose them all. One by one, until he lost himself too.


End file.
